Big Three: MFMM Contemporary Romance

by Demi Donovan

  “I’m not sure whether it’s the cursing, or the whole date thing that’s gotten her tongue-tied,” Callum says, clearing the field a little.

  “Oh,” I say flatly. “That. You don’t think you’re datable?”

  “You’re very datable,” Callum adds.

  “Fuckable, even,” I round out, and if Lily could disappear into the ether, I think that’s exactly what she’d do right now.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look so shell-shocked.

  “I thought you two promised to behave,” she mutters, pulling the bill of her cap down a little again.

  “We are behaving!” I protest with Callum at the same time.

  He’s gotten a beer off of a vendor and we clink the plastic cups together over Lily’s head, careful not to spill anything. Not that I wouldn’t mind seeing her doused again, with the thin tee sticking to her skin… Goddammit, I think I’m going to need more than a quick jerking off session to get over meeting this woman.

  She laughs at that and it’s the first time I’ve heard that sound. It’s mesmerizing and I immediately want to hear more.

  “I’m horrified to think what you two would be like if you weren’t behaving, then,” she says, grinning.

  “We’re more than happy to give you a private tour,” Callum quips, adding in a wink for good measure.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you are,” she says with a sigh, shaking her head.

  Okay, so we’re like partway there. She’s unwinding a little. Baby steps.

  “So what are you doing after this?” Callum asks, nudging Lily slightly. “You know, so we could show you.”

  “I’m working,” she says flatly, though I can still spot a hint of a smile.

  “Yeah? What do you do?”

  I’m eager to keep her talking, sure that she’d clam back up if there’s too much of a lull. And I don’t want that to happen.

  “I’m a lawyer.”

  The sound Callum and I make has her sitting up straight, staring from one to another rapidly.

  “What?”

  “I mean, it’s not surprising,” Callum says tentatively.

  “Why?”

  Her eyes are narrowing. Not a good sign.

  “Well, with the overworking and the lack of sun and all that,” I jump in, smoothing some feathers.

  She doesn’t need to know that our view on lawyers is comparable with the nuclear holocaust. Considering that we’ve been surrounded by lawyers for most of our lives thanks to dad’s constant divorces, we’re not exactly… favorable towards them, one might say.

  “Uh-huh,” she says, still not convinced. “And you guys? What do you do when you’re not spilling beers on people and making them enjoy sports competitions?”

  “A-ha, so you admit you’re enjoying yourself,” Callum says victoriously.

  “I won’t testify to it in court,” she says dryly, drawing a chuckle from the both of us.

  “We’re in sports casting now,” I say, leaving it open-ended just like she did.

  “Wait,” Lily starts, realization dawning on her sweet, heart-shaped face. “Sports casting… you’re not… you’re not the Stephenson twins, are you?”

  I guess one or the other of us isn’t fast enough with hiding the guilty look, because a second later, Lily’s on her feet and pushing past Callum.

  “Lily!” I start, and Callum’s already after her.

  “No, I’m sorry, I need to go,” she says, showing better running game than I did for my first season.

  Damn, that girl’s fast on her feet when she needs to be. She’s halfway up the stairs when Callum catches up to her, but I never hear what she says and Callum lets her go.

  “What the fuck, man?” I ask, lowering my voice as my eyes track Lily bouncing up the stairs and out of sight.

  I was fully intending on looking at that ass far longer today, but now I feel… well, I don’t like it, whatever it is. I don’t like thinking that we really did something to make her feel uncomfortable around us.

  “Leave it,” Callum says grimly, motioning me back towards the seat.

  I frown and as I turn around to trot down, I catch Christine’s questioning look.

  “If you two-” she starts, half-standing from her chair.

  “We’ll take care of it,” Callum bites back, hushing her before she could continue with whatever she was about to say.

  I think the look we give Callum’s retreating back with Christine is about the same.

  Six

  Lily

  I think I’ve been consistently blushing for nearly thirty-six hours straight now. It’s a Saturday morning, I’m just about the only person in the Harley Law & Finance Library, and I swear my cheeks are still bright red from the Thursday night baseball game.

  I can’t believe I was sitting down and palling around with the two most notorious playboys in the nation. I might not follow news other than the economics and politics pages, but even I know that Callum and Troy Stephenson are Trouble with a capital T. They’re the poster boys for sleeping around, causing trouble and leaving any woman who comes in contact with them worse off.

  And I thought they were hot.

  I roll my eyes a little, even if it’s forced, my attention wavering from the book I’ve been trying to flip through on international matrimonial law precedence. I’ve been reading the same page about ten times over, maybe more. I’m not even sure at this point, but I do know that I’m not remembering any of it, and my thoughts keep wandering back to the twins.

  How big they were… How nice it felt when they had their arms around me, or when our shoulders brushed together when we were sitting, watching the game… How it felt great to actually be wanted again for a change!

  I mean, I know it’s ludicrous. The moment I got home, I sat down with some wine and my tablet and Googled those two. They’re absolutely notorious and their conquests are the favorite food of gossip bloggers everywhere. They tend to find a woman they like and then… well, it’s never been substantiated, but… the general opinion seems to be that they like sharing.

  Everything, and everyone.

  I gulp dryly at the thought of it. I’d like to say that I didn’t go through a very satisfying half hour in the company of my vibrator after mulling it over a bit Thursday night, but then that would make me a liar.

  Which, despite my profession, I’ve vowed not to become.

  Still, even revisiting the thought of spending more time with them is strictly out of the question. It just won’t happen, end of story. I’ve had enough of men who can’t be true to a woman and I won’t be dragged down that rabbit hole of despair and heartache again. No way.

  With my newfound resolve, I dive back into my research, furrowing my brow and running along the line I’m reading with the tip of my pencil without letting it touch the paper. I don’t even look up when a stack of books is plopped down on the table across from me and then the chair screeches a little as it’s dragged along the floor.

  Just my luck. The whole library is empty and this person had to come sit down at my table.

  I remind myself that I have no ownership of said workspace and that it’s a small library with not that many secluded corners to even start with, but that tiny human spark of annoyance still plums in me. I read a few more lines of the text and scribble down notes on the chapter.

  When I finally look up, my breath hitches a little.

  What is it about ending up around incredibly attractive men these past two days? Has the universe set out to mock me?

  I think it has.

  The guy sitting across and to the left of me is tall, broad-shouldered, with a lush hair of dark brown hair, and the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. My gaze flicks down to the literature he’s browsing through and my heart leaps a little – he practically has the same stack as I do. All books on divorce law and international precedence.

  He notices me staring and I busy myself by looking down and pretending to read, though I can’t help but glance up again. He�
�s still looking at me and if I wasn’t blushing before, I definitely am now. I squirm in my seat a little, immediately considering the option of moving tables because he’s incredibly distracting.

  I can feel his eyes on me as he reaches for his thermos mug and takes a sip of what smells like strong black coffee. He looks exactly like the type of guy who’d drink black coffee, probably some sort of a special brew that he’s spent ages looking for…

  I look at my own cup of now-cold machine coffee and I feel even more unworthy than I did before.

  It didn’t used to be like this. Being around attractive men didn’t make me immediately question myself as a woman and a person. I guess some wounds go a bit too deep to come out of it unscathed. I wish I weren’t rattled so easily…

  “Hey,” he says out of the blue, and his voice is like velvet against my skin.

  It’s deep and broody and so masculine. I look up and smile tentatively, stuck between a desire to run – that one’s familiar – and to not go anywhere at all.

  “Hey,” I respond.

  “Would you like some?” he asks, holding up the thermos.

  It takes me a second to catch onto what he’s offering – for a moment there my brain wishes he’s talking about something completely different – and then another to process the thought. By the time I’m done trying to formulate an answer, he’s already pouring me a cup using the screw-off lid of the thermos and pushing it towards me.

  I nod like I’m mute and accept it. The smell alone hits me like a fresh wind, immediately rousing me after the hours of study I’ve already managed to cram into the morning. Even if most of it has been wasted time by any reasonable standards.

  “So, you’re going to have to excuse my lack of game here, but come here often?” he asks, sipping from his own cup.

  I chuckle, and then take the first sip. It’s like liquid gold, smooth and perfect and strong. I don’t usually like my coffee black but this time, I’m more than willing to give it a go.

  “I do, actually,” I say, motioning at the books. “It feels like no matter how much I read, I’m never prepared as much as I’d like to be.”

  I don’t add the part where I basically got to first name basis with the previous librarian back when Jacob had just left me. I basically lived here, finding the volumes of legal tomes as better company than my wailing despair. You’re supposed to be quiet in a library so I couldn’t cry here, which was basically all I really wanted to do when I was alone.

  It’s sickeningly weak and I hate thinking back on it. Still, the library has been my sanctuary.

  “What about you?” I ask, preferring to eat up the lull in the conversation.

  I keep my voice low though. The new librarian is a real stickler for the hush-rule.

  “Can’t say that I do,” he says, considering his own pile of books. “I’m just doing some mandatory reading. It isn’t usually my cup of… coffee.”

  We both grin at that.

  “So I assume you’re not a lawyer?”

  “I think the odds are better for me to become a dolphin overnight than to become a lawyer. No offense,” he adds quickly, probably noticing the surprise that flitted across my expression.

  “Bad experiences?” I ask over the rim of my cup.

  “You could say that,” he agrees.

  I don’t push him on why he’s reading about matrimonial law then. And he’s holding his cup in a way that I can’t see his ring finger, but the interaction goes a long way towards clearing my head a little. If he isn’t a lawyer then there are not a whole lot of reasons for him to be reading about this…

  I can’t help myself. I have to ask.

  “If you’re not a lawyer, then you’re picking some very questionable easy Saturday reading books,” I say, pointing at the one he has open.

  It’s a 2,000-page volume of previous trials across all fifty states. Not exactly something you’d pick up to browse through without reason.

  “Let’s just say that I’ve learned to do my homework a bit,” he says. “I’m doing it… for a friend. Let’s leave it at that.”

  I nod in understanding and for a few minutes, we both return to our reading. He’s still a major distraction though, because over the scent of strong coffee, I can also smell him. And he smells deliciously masculine… sort of like the Stephenson twins did. He has something earthy about him, like he has his two feet firmly to the ground and nothing rattles him. In that sense, he could be the polar opposite of me.

  “Okay, I give up,” he says, slamming the book shut suddenly.

  The librarian, a crotchety woman by the name of Jean who looks like she’s been on jury duty one too many times, shushes him from across the library. I don’t even see where she is, but I can hear the slithering ‘shh!’.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, clamping a hand over my mouth as another hush follows, this time directed at me.

  He grins and I giggle into my palm.

  “I mean, I think I’m not cracked up for this. I’ll admit, I mostly grabbed this stack randomly and I have no idea where all of these go. What do you say, want to show me where I have to put these so I don’t incur the wrath of the librarian?” he asks, dropping his voice and waggling his brows at the last bit, like he’s announcing a grave danger that’s about to enter the scene.

  I smile. I wouldn’t have guessed him to have a sense of humor behind that dark and dangerous appearance of his. Not that I mind.

  “If you promise to give me another shot of that coffee, sure,” I barter.

  You always have to get something out of a deal.

  “Sure thing,” he says, scooping up the books in one smooth motion and standing up.

  My heart skips a beat as I track his body as he stands. He’s wearing black slacks and a simple black button-up, but the way it hugs his body is… well, it sure is. He’s even taller than I thought and the way his wide chest tapers into a tucked waist and hips makes me clench my thighs a little.

  It’s a good thing he isn’t a lawyer because damn, he’d be really distracting in court!

  I gulp down the last of the coffee and with one fleeting thought at how in the world I keep steering right into trouble even when I see it coming, I track after him. I might be staring a little too hard at his ass.

  I don’t even try to stop myself, and that’s probably a horrible idea.

  Seven

  Austin

  She’s right behind me and I have to exercise all my self-control to keep from dropping the books and pinning her against one of the shelves.

  I lick my tongue across my lips as we venture deeper into the small library, the mid-day sun shining in through the high windows and casting bastions of light here and there. I can see the librarian give me the evil-eye as we walk around and I throw her a grin and a wink. She visibly gasps and looks away, her lips pursing.

  “So what’s a bloodsucking lawyer like you doing in a place like this?” I ask, opting to follow my previous line of inquiry.

  She laughs and it’s like bells are ringing. I love that sound. I get the feeling she doesn’t laugh as often as she should. Then again, who am I to judge?

  “I’m prepping for a case,” she says, stopping me with a light tap on my shoulder as we reach one of the shelves deemed correct.

  She snatches the book I’m carrying at the top of the pile and stands up on her tiptoes to put it away on the right shelf. She can’t be more than 5’4’’. I love a woman who’s short enough to be picked up and cuddled easily… or pressed against a wall, held up and fucked senseless. Either will do, both are preferred.

  “Oh yeah? What kind of case?”

  She gives me a little look and I smile.

  “I get it, it’s a divorce case.” My finger twitches slightly underneath the pile of books, like I was electrocuted just by saying the d-word. “But, like, I assume it isn’t your average run of the mill split everything down the middle kind of deal, or otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I presume.”

  I’m not usually t
his tentative, but a part of me really wants to play this right. I indulge that urge. It’s been a long, long time since I felt it last and I don’t really mind the way it makes me feel. I always loved the chase… as much as I loved the capture, of course.

  She seems to think about that as she waves me along, this time taking lead. I get a chance to admire her plump, grabbable ass. Definitely a yoga kind of girl. Maybe even a lifter? I’d love to find out.

  “Well, I’m not entirely sure yet,” she says. Before I can question her about that, she goes on. “It’s a new case and I haven’t gotten the folder yet. Yesterday, my boss came in and told me I’d be having a meeting at the beginning of the week to get me up to speed on everything, but I figured I could prep a little beforehand. I know the kind of cases my boss prefers and they’re outside my comfort zone.

  “If this is her kind of case, then it means I have to step up.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that,” I say absently, only half-listening as I keep my eyes on her body.

  I’m so distracted that I practically walk into her and for a moment, we’re face to face and very close. If I didn’t have the books in my way, I think my instincts would have made me grab her and pull her to me.

  Her breath hitches audibly and I grin down at her, feeling that familiar predatory sense go through me. It’s been a hell of a long time since I had someone in my sights last, but this is not something you forget how to do.

  “Um, I’ll take that,” she says, blushing a little as she wrestles another thick book out of the stack, having to wiggle it a little to get it.

  All the while, I’m enjoying the way she’s squirming. My eyes trace the curve of her neck, her pale, milky skin… the way her auburn hair is in perfect contrast with it, and how the heather cardigan she’s wearing over a simple white blouse makes me want to run my fingertips over her skin as gently as the fabric is touching her.

  I can barely suppress the growl rising in my throat when she has to stretch her body out a little to reach another high shelf. The desire to wrap her up in my arms and keep her there is overwhelming and I’m not even sure where the hell it’s coming from.